Lycan Prince Claims Luna

Seven years. Seven long years since I'd last set foot in New York City. The skyline stretched before me, a glittering canvas of ambition and betrayal. I stood on the balcony of our Manhattan penthouse, the cool evening air caressing my skin. My fingers absently traced the platinum band on my left hand—a habit I'd developed whenever the past threatened to overwhelm me. "You're thinking about them, aren't you?" I didn't need to turn to know Leonardo had joined me. His presence was like a physical force, powerful and reassuring. The mate bond between us hummed with his concern. "They're just ghosts, Violet," he said, his arms encircling me from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck.

I was ready to reveal my true identity, imagining Charles's proposal, but then I overheard the conversation. "Are you and Tracy Davis getting married?" "What about Victoria?" "She's nothing special, just a mistress." Fury coursed through me as I walked away. Tracy Davis, the girl who tormented me in high school, was now a part of Charles's plans. I ended things with Charles, then orchestrated the merger of all the companies that had humiliated me-at their wedding ceremony.

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

I, once a renowned belly - dance master, was the unwitting victim of a diabolical plot. My own sister, Sarah, and my supposed mate, Frank, conspired to have me violated. Their heinous plan was to ensure that the adopted daughter, Jenny, could perform belly dance in the blood - moon ceremony without any competition. I was savagely assaulted, my body and spirit broken, and then callously framed, left to die in a pool of my own despair. But fate had a different turn for me. Against all odds, I clawed my way back from the brink of death and transformed into a special agent, staging a false death to escape the nightmare that had been my life. Frank, only after the damage was irreparably done, finally opened his eyes to the magnitude of his mistakes. Consumed by a guilt so profound that it seemed to eat away at his very soul, he was left adrift in a sea of remorse. However, it was far, far too late...

The Plaza Hotel's bridal suite was bathed in soft morning light as I stood before the ornate mirror. My reflection stared back at me—eyes bright with anticipation, cheeks flushed with excitement. Today was supposed to be the beginning of forever. "You look beautiful," my makeup artist had whispered just moments ago. "Caspian won't know what hit him." I smiled, touching the delicate lace of my custom Vera Wang gown. Ten years of love, of building a life together, all culminating in this perfect day. My fingers trembled slightly as I adjusted my veil. "I'm just nervous," I whispered to my reflection, trying to calm the flutter in my stomach. The lights above me flickered once, twice. I frowned, glancing upward.

The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of Crescent Academy's grand hall, casting golden light across the polished wooden floors. I sat in the front row, my heart swelling with pride as I watched Zander cross the stage. Three years of sacrifice, late nights, and endless support had led to this moment. "Ladies and gentlemen," the headmaster announced, his voice echoing through the hall, "our valedictorian, Zander Campbell, has demonstrated extraordinary leadership skills and tactical brilliance throughout his time at Crescent Academy." Zander stepped forward, his tall frame commanding attention. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his ceremonial Alpha robes fit him like they were made specifically for him—which, considering how much I'd invested in his education, they practically were. "Today marks not just an ending, but a beginning," Zander's voice carried confidently across the hall. "A beginning where we will build stronger packs, forge unbreakable alliances, and lead with both strength and wisdom." My fingers traced the intricate patterns on my dress as I listened. Those words—they were from the strategic frameworks I'd developed and shared with him during late-night study sessions. The pride in my chest expanded. This was our victory, our future.